


A meeting on the beach

by Mycroffed



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Beachfic, Fluff, Kidlock, M/M, ah well, wroe this in december
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3638700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mycroffed/pseuds/Mycroffed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft, Harry and their little brothers spend a day on the beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A meeting on the beach

**Author's Note:**

> Alrigh. So thisis a little fic I wrote last year. I had the idea in August when I spent a day on the beach with my sort of cousin but not really. A family member anyway. He was adorable and I just had to write this. It's not that well written but I thought, after all he House madness you got from me, I'll give you readers some Sherlock (:  
> Thank you for reading, kudo'ing and commenting.  
> Love, the Author.

The Holmes family had decided it was time for a day out. The weather was splendid, there were no clouds to be spotted in the sky, so their destination was the beach. Mycroft already realised he'd have to watch Sherlock, who was only three, while their parents were doing... Other stuff.

There was a big screen on the beach, something neither of them had counted on, and it was playing Ice Age. Sherlock could not be interested in watching the movie - he was doing some experiments on different seashells by running all over the small beach and picking up everything he found - but Mycroft on the other hand deemed it worthy of half his attention.

Five minutes into the movie, his mother was already reading this book she had brought with her. His father had been too busy with his affairs to come to the beach and, one way or another, Mycroft was glad he hadn't come. He would have obliged him to talk to all the people he knew and start building public relations. He was only seven, but his father treated him like an adult, like he wanted Mycroft to take over the family buisiness. It had only become worse after his parents had realised Sherlock would never be able to take over their father's job. He hadn't said a word in the three years he had lived right now. It was fairly obvious he was a genious, doing experiments on everything he saw, but socially he was a bit... Clumsy, to put it mildly.

After the movie had finished, the little boy had noticed the big blue sea far away, so, after a sign of his mother to follow the little boy, he trailed after Sherlock, who was by now in his swimming trunks. Sherlock went into the sea and he went quite deep the first time. He was to his hips in the water. But then he got out of the water fairly quickly and Mycroft had been convinced the little boy wanted to return to mother. But no, after running around on the beach close to the water for a minute or two, he returned to the water, standing in it kneedeep.

Sherlock repeated this ritual a couple of times, running in and out of the water, until Mycroft had had enough.

'Come on, Sherlock,' he said. 'Let's go.'

The boy shook his head. He didn't want to, of course not. To support his wordless protest, he fell to his bottom, sitting in the sea, obviously not wanting to move.

Mycroft sighed. All he wanted was to return to his mother, to be able to sit, maybe even talk, if mother was in a good mood. But no, he had to be the boy watching Sherlock. If his father had been here...

His thought was interupted by a cry from Sherlock.

Mycroft looked up. A boy of a year or five had ran over Sherlock, who was still sitting in the same place. The boy had blond hair, was quite short but a bit pudgy and was now offering his apologies to Sherlock by playing with him. Next to the boy was a girl about Mycroft's age, pulling at the boy's arm, trying to get him away from Sherlock.

'It won't work,' Mycroft called out. He shrugged. 'Kids, right?'

The girl laughed at that last comment.

'I'm Mycroft, by the way. And that's Sherlock.'

'Harry, and the little devil is John.'

 

*

 

 Harry hated going to the sea. She would be very happy to stay home and watch telly all day, but her little brother wouldn't agree with that. John was crazy about the sea and that was one of the main reasons why their parents had rented a small cottage near the coast this year. For the first time Harry could take John to the beach without parental supervision. Just the two of them.

She had protested of course, but how usefull is that when their mind is already made up and your little brother can't do anything wrong and is their absolute favorite.

She hated the sea. All the salt, the wind, messing with her hair and of course her brother would have to go for a swim, which meant she was the one to dry him off when he got cold. But this time it was different. Of course John had wanted to sleep in the sea, but he hadn't asked her to join him in there. There was someone else who had caught his attention. A three year old boy, sitting in the sea who obviously did not want to move. He had accidentally ran into him and was now apologizing to the boy. He didn't know his name or if he even spoke English, but that was John sometimes. She smiled weakly at her little brother.

The boy's brother was standing on the beach, looking as out of place as one can be. He was wearing a buttoned up shirt with shorts and sandals, but it was the look on his face that did it. He looked like he hated the place. So when he introduced himself and the boy, she actually smiled back and talked to him.

'So what brings you here then?' She smiled at Mycroft.

'Family. My brother, mainly. Mother is reading a book and Sherlock desperately wanted to come and play in the sea, so who else was there to accompany him?'

'It's the same here,' she sighed. 'Sometimes I wish I was the younger kid.'

Mycroft smirked slightly. 'Yes, I know the feeling.'

 

*

 

While his sister was talking to the other boy, John was playing with Sherlock. At first he had introduced himself like a good boy and then he had waited for some reaction from Sherlock. When they boy realized that John was waiting, he just shook his head. No. He wasn't going to talk.

John understood the message and smiled at the boy, playing with him non the less, not pushing him to talk.

Sherlock looked at him a bit confused, like he was not used to people not forcing him to do anything. And of course he wasn't. And John just stayed there, by his side, talking, while he was trying to figure out what it was that made him trust this boy immediately.

And the afternoon passed. Mycroft and Harry got on quite well, both to their own surprise and John and Sherlock played happily. The two youngest kids even ventured into to sea at one point, running in and out of the water. After a good half hour, Sherlock got tired of the sea and he walked to Mycroft again, pulling his brother's sleeve to get him to go and give him a towel. Mycroft sighed before walking there and getting it. When he returned, Sherlock wrapped it around him and sat down on the beach, like a little pile of towel with a human head sticking out of it. Harry and Mycroft smiled fondly at the little boy as John kept bringing him new stuff to look at.

When it finally was time to go back home, the two oldest kids promised to keep contact. They exchanged adresses and planned on writing letters. John held Sherlock's hand and kept saying that the little boy was his boyfriend now, to which Harry just shook her head fondly.

'You're a silly little boy, John.'

She was in a much better mood now that she had found someone who knew how she felt and actually talked back. When their parents finally came to collect them to get ready to leave, John smiled a last time at Sherlock. 'Goodbye, Sherlock.'

And Sherlock, to everyone's surprise, smiled back and said. 'Goodbye, John. See you later.'

 

*

 

It was not until years later that those two boys who met each other on the beach saw the other again. By this time, John had subscribed to the army and returned from Afghanistan, while Sherlock had been struggling with drugs. But when they met, the sparks between them were back alive immediately, maybe even more than on that single summer day on the beach. But they didn't recognize each other, not at first at least. It took a long while for that to happen.

'Sherlock?' John frowned slightly. They were lying in bed together, John curled up into Sherlock with his hands running over the other man's naked chest.

'Yes, John?' The warm, soft baritone that was Sherlock's voice send a shiver through John's spine. God, he loved that man, he thought before continuing to talk.

'Do you remember a day on the beach, the day you first spoke?'

Now it was the detective's turn to frown. 'How do you know about that day?'

'Do you remember what you said and who you said it to, Sherlock?' John looked up before kissing the muscly chest beneath him.

The detective hummed in pleasure before he answered. 'I said "Goodbye, John. See you later." And it was to you, my love.' He smiled and kissed the top on his doctor's head. 'And if I remember correctly, you kept calling me your boyfriend.'

'Yes well, I didn't know just how right I would be one day, would I?' He chuckled softly.

'Why are you suddenly asking?'

'Nothing, just waking up old memories of a time long gone.' He kissed his detective passionately before closing his eyes and, relaxed in the arms of his love, slowly drifted off to sleep.


End file.
